


love filled bao

by literally_jams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Cooking, DaiSuga Week 2020, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Friends to Lovers, Lowercase, M/M, Sawamura Daichi-centric, earth metaphors. hands. best friends. longing. the usual gay agenda, no capitalization :), sports med major daichi education major suga, tobiosuga friendship cause i said so :D daizumi friendship for same reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literally_jams/pseuds/literally_jams
Summary: “do you ever feel caged in?”daichi pauses.not really,is his first thought. the world is vast, it would take him a hundred or so years to walk the whole earth. he doesn’t feel suffocation at letting branches grow from the main trunk, reaching out farther away from home. for daichi, it’s his way of flying.flying. oh. daichi thinks he understands now. “sometimes.” it’s not entirely a lie, sometimes he feels as though he is stuck in between a rocky shore of a beach, wedged in between heavy boulders with only gaps of light to see through. daichi pours most of the sauce into the pan, letting it reduce down and soak into the meat.in other words; five times daichi cooks for suga and one time suga cooks for daichi.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 93
Collections: DaiSugaWeek2020





	love filled bao

**Author's Note:**

> alt title: author projects for 16k words.. 
> 
> anyway happy daisuga week!!! this is for day 4 salty/spicy/sweet. first id like to shoutout all my twt mutuals who rlly egged me on!!! special namedrop to tuki who would listen to me talk ab writing this endlessly and my favorite creative writing graduate, bff, and forever beta morg!! <3 <3 love all of u sm. this is largely based off of my own personal connections to cooking and perceiving food as a love language as well as wondering what Strong Captain Daichi would be like when he's insecure and in love and vulnerable. also wanted to explore internalizer daichi who thinks hes too rough for anything fragile (projecting...) and ALSO im obsessed with earth metaphors for him and love being stored in the onigiri. so u get this. 
> 
> cw for food and knives (not in a violent way just in a. cutting veggies way) !
> 
> hope you enjoy :D

1: 

“it’s freezing, daichi,” suga says, pulling up his blue scarf to cover up his nose.

daichi huffs out a laugh. “didn’t notice.” he rolls his shoulders before pushing open the gym door with his back.

the snow is coming down hard and the wind blows away at daichi’s hair as he’s trying to lock up, while suga bounces up and down on his tiptoes to generate some type of heat.

walking home in the snow is less than ideal, but the thought of suga in his house makes the walk a little better and a lot less lonely. they have a test in japanese history tomorrow, which has never been daichi’s strongest suit, but he gets by. studying is just always better with a friend.

daichi’s quietness is not unusual; he observes and keeps things close to his chest until he is ready to give them a voice. suga isn’t unobservant, but he charges forward and leaps before he looks. daichi looks at him in a different light because of that. suga talks animatedly about nothing at all, knowing daichi is content, merely listening at his side. suga’s hands wave around and his voice raises when he gets to the good part of his story about how tanaka “completely ate shit,” at practice today. 

suga looks good like this, the falling snow catches in his grey hair and refracts the sunlight, giving suga this sort of… glow. his smile makes what is already bright shine even harder. daichi’s brain knows that the white snow piled on the fields next to the sidewalk are refracting the light too and that’s why his eyes ache but still. in the snow, suga looks…. pretty.

daichi blinks at the thought. suga looks pretty. the realization enters his head like a neighbor knocking on his door. surprising but not quite unwelcome. _isn’t that weird?_ he thinks. white clouds on a cool summer afternoon are pretty. flowers blooming in spring are pretty. things that are dainty are pretty, things that if daichi were to impress his fingers in for too long, they would shatter like fine china, are pretty. suga may look dainty to the unassuming bystander but he would break all 200 of daichi’s bones if he were to say that suga is fragile in any way. suga, with his pretty grey shiny hair and his sharp jawline and his setter hands, is pretty in the way charlie’s angels are pretty- underestimate them and you end up six feet under in an instant. ah, daichi just thought suga was pretty and proceeded to wax poetic about him. this will definitely be unpacked tonight when he is lying on his bed in the dark. 

suga nudges daichi’s right elbow with his left, turning to look at him and furrowing his brow. _everything okay?_ he says without saying. daichi kicks a mound of snow over suga’s boots using the inside of his foot. 

suga’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and it quickly turns into an expression of mischief, eyes ablaze the way he does when he joins nishinoya in whatever the hell it is that nishinoya does. he crouches down to pick up snow with a bare hand (he forgot to bring gloves to school today. don’t worry, daichi already scolded him for it), points to daichi with his other hand, arm outstretched and one eye closed. 

daichi laughs to himself before saying “you look like oikawa,” to which suga’s smug face drops. he opens his mouth in disbelief.

“bastard!” he throws the snow at him, daichi putting a hand in front of his face and turning away to protect himself. 

daichi crouches down to pick up snow, with his gloves, mind you, and suga takes off running. “what?” daichi shouts. “unfair!” and bolts after him. 

suga’s laugh rings throughout the street like christmas bells. daichi’s warm breath comes out in quick short puffs, vapor condensing into small clouds in front of him. the muscles in his thighs ache at doing a post-practice run and the tension in his shoulders complain as well, but they are no match to the determined fire suga so often sparks in him. 

suga turns a corner and disappears, making daichi run even faster. he slows down to a stop once his house is in view. the only trace of suga are the footprints he left behind in the snow. opening the door, daichi sees him leaned against a wall for support, taking off his boots.

“-chasing me like a maniac!” he exclaims. _brat._

a laugh rings out. “how rude of him,” and ah, shit. he thought suga was just speaking to his little siblings, but he really has to rat out daichi in front of _his mom?_ as if she didn’t already love suga more than she loves him?

“not true!” suga whips around and his eyes widen at daichi’s call. _that’s right, bitch!_ “suga threw snow at me first and couldn’t handle the consequences.” 

his mother laughs. “i won’t take sides,” she takes a scarf off its hook and wraps it around herself. 

“i am your child.” daichi deadpans, taking off his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack by the front door.

“i am, too!” suga pipes up, innocently as ever. “in spirit!”

“i’m biological.” daichi says in the same monotone voice. 

daichi’s mom doesn’t respond to either of their claims, though she smiles and calls out for daichi’s siblings instead. “emiko! katashi!” 

two bundles come barrelling through the living room, presumably from the kitchen. they’re dressed adorably in their winter gear- warm from the pom-pom hat on their heads down to the little rain boots on their feet. 

emiko gasps. “suga-san!” 

suga drops down to the balls of his feet immediately and smiles softly. “emiko! look at you,” he flicks the pom-pom on her hat. he turns to katashi, “don’t be shy! i’m not your mean big brother.”

katashi crosses his arms over his chest as seriously as an eight year old can. “i like daichi-kun!” if daichi’s chest puffs out at his little brother defending his honor, that is between no one except for daichi and god. 

suga laughs lightly. “of course, of course,” he waves off. “show me the picture from last time.” katashi’s defensiveness disappears in an instant, and he, too, disappears to grab said picture. his mom steps out as well. 

“everyone in this household likes you better than they like me,” daichi says amusedly.

“can you blame them?” suga looks at him with sparkles in his eyes from talking to his siblings.

_no,_ daichi thinks. _i can’t_.

the weird thoughts just keep coming today, huh?

katashi breaks his trance by running back to suga and stopping in front of him, suddenly becoming shy. “i know it’s not that good…” he trails off.

suga gasps dramatically and moves from his squat to fully sit down on the floor. “what are you talking about! this is great!” suga looks at the drawing katashi hands him, a godzilla drawn in crude crayon. “emiko, look! do you like it?”

emiko nods. “i like the colors, kata.” both her brothers smile. daichi’s chest clenches at suga being so friendly towards his siblings. it’s just nice that they get along.

“i have a friend, iwaizumi,” suga smiles harder at daichi’s confused look. daichi is sure suga is not friends with iwaizumi, cause _he_ is friends with iwaizumi. “who really likes godzilla,” suga continues. “do you mind if i show this to him? i bet he’ll love it.”

katashi nods so frantically that daichi has to keep himself from reaching out and making sure katashi’s head remains on his shoulders. suga laughs and pulls out his green phone, snapping a picture and quickly types out a message before putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“going to skating lessons?” suga asks, pulling off emiko’s hat to ruffle her hair, to which she pouts at. 

“last time, i didn’t have to hold the railing!” she boasts and puffs out her chest. 

“good job!” suga coos. “maybe me and daichi should go get skating lessons one day.”

“we can bring emiko and kata, too.” daichi says. “they can show off all the skills they learn in lessons.”

“and laugh at you when you fall down,” suga adds. emiko and katashi giggle. 

daichi looks at katashi, “weren’t you defending me?” 

katashi looks up in surprise, like he forgot he was playing for daichi’s team at all. “oh yeah!” he exclaims. “suga-san, i hope you fall instead!”

daichi bursts into laughter at suga’s shock. “not- not like that, katashi,” the denial gets washed away with daichi’s gasps for air. 

daichi’s mother comes back with two backpacks, “you two ready?”

emiko goes over to get her backpack, while katashi stays at suga’s side. “here,” he thrusts the drawing into suga’s hands. “you can have it!”

suga’s eyes go wide. “i can?” katashi nods. “thank you so much, kata!” suga folds the drawing into a neat rectangle. he gets his wallet out of his own backpack and slides it in there with all the gentleness in the world as to preserve the paper. he pats it twice before putting it back. 

“bye, suga-san!” emiko and katashi say before walking out the door with their mother. “bye, daichi!” they wave.

“i love them,” suga says as the door clicks shut. 

“i know,” daichi laughs. suga follows him as he pads into the kitchen, dumping his backpack and gym bag on the floor next to the living room table. he opens the fridge, inspecting what’s inside. leftovers from yesterday, strawberry milk, odds and ends, but the udon noodles on the bottom shelf look promising. he closes the fridge door. “go take a shower,” daichi suggests. before suga can retort, he keeps talking, “before you freeze and die. and i’ll make something.”

suga salutes with a grin and turns around, leaving the kitchen. daichi gets to work immediately, donning his black apron that makes him feel like those professional chefs on tv that chop onions with such speed that daichi has to look at his own fingers to make sure they haven’t been cut off. he fills a pot with boiling water and puts it on the stove, the dial cracking when he turns it to high heat.

next, he opens the pack of udon noodles with a knife and sets them aside while he moves on to prep the broth. daichi has always been fond of cooking, he watched his mother move food around in a pan with precision and love growing up. then he grew to love seeing the expression on his little siblings’ faces when he makes something they particularly like. daichi takes the cooked noodles out of the pot using a spider. he pours dashi broth in the now empty pot, adding in shoyu, mirin, and sugar. he firmly believes that cooking, like love, cannot be measured in definitive units. it’s all in the heart, all in what feels right. 

that, and daichi doesn’t want to wash a million bowls and get the scale out when he gets it right anyway. he cuts scallions along a diagonal and does the same to the fishcake, before slicing beef as thin as he can. 

“what are you making?” suga asks as daichi drops the noodles into the now boiling water. turning around, he sees suga in his orange hoodie and shorts, still rubbing a towel over his wet hair. suga in his clothes makes daichi feel a certain way, he can’t quite name it yet but it tugs at his stomach and punches his chest, makes his hands curl. 

“niku udon,” he responds easily. he starts stir frying thinly sliced beef in a preheated pan with a spoonful of oil, tapping the pan handle with the outside of his wrist as he holds the pan in the other hand, moving around the meat. he gets two bowls out of the overhead cupboard, filling both with noodles, scallions, and fishcake. daichi ladles hot soup over the noodles, tops it off with the beef, and sticks chopsticks into the bowls. 

“of course you’d know how to cook,” suga is already seated as daichi sets the food on the table. he quirks an eyebrow at suga, makes a noncommittal hum of questioning. “it’s a homey thing to do,” suga elaborates, “grounding. very daichi of you.”

daichi sits in the chair across from suga instead of answering. “itadakimasu,” they both say before digging in. 

suga hums in appreciation. “this is really good, daichi!” he grins.

“don’t sound so surprised,” he replies in exasperation. it increases when suga barks out a laugh.

“what’s your secret?” suga deflects. daichi watches the joints in suga’s fingers bend at using chopsticks, veins becoming defined when his grip tightens.

“you’re going to insult me then ask me for my cooking secrets?” he questions. the udon is pretty good- chewy but still tender and the soup is perfectly salty and full, with just the slightest tinge of sweetness. the scallion gives it a peppery bite and the beef is a crisp contrast. daichi mentally pats himself on the back. suga stays silent. he sighs before saying, “each meal is a message. you express stuff through the food, that’s what makes it good. cause you’re making it with your heart.” he taps at his chest for emphasis.

suga cocks his head and hums again, but this time in understanding. “so what about this one?”

“hm?”

“this meal. what does it say?” suga looks open, eager to know more about this part of daichi. they’ve known each other for three whole years, but daichi has never let suga see this side of him. his mom had always been home to make dinner or they get takeout if they’re feeling particularly lazy. daichi has never cooked _for_ suga, has never shown this type of intimacy. 

“repair your muscles after practice,” is what comes to mind. “warm up from the cold so your brain works for when we study for this test.” daichi tacks on.

suga laughs, “then we should study, no?” 

they pass the test. flying colors for the both of them.

2:

daichi seriously thinks there is something wrong with him. he mulled over all those weird thoughts he had from when he cooked for suga and instead of making it better, they got increasingly worse.

he’s never really been one to ask for help- what good is a captain that can’t deal with things himself? he untangles the ball of yarn in his head with his own two hands- the ones that are calloused and rough and big. he is grateful that yarn can be stretched and squeezed, if it were anything like glass, daichi would have broken it by now. it’s been two weeks since suga came over that night, so daichi has had enough time to look at the knots but there is a persistent one that won’t untie, no matter how hard he picks at the string until the skin under his fingernails is sore.

suga is pretty! that, he can admit. daichi does have eyes, after all, and he’s comfortable enough in his masculinity to say it. but thinking too hard about what makes suga pretty makes him think about his dumb setter hands, long fingers with neatly trimmed nails and prodding bone. which, again, isn’t bad, per say _,_ but then daichi’s train of thought quickly floods to holding said dumb setter hands and wondering if they’d be cold against daichi’s furnace of a body. wondering if those fingers would thread with his and squeeze gently like a hug at the end of the day.

wondering if-

“daichi!” and here walks in the man of the hour.

“suga!” daichi replies.

he spins the gym key around his index finger. “ready to go?” he already has his black karasuno jacket zipped up to face the cold. the snow had melted in past weeks and left february with sharp and clear wind.

daichi puts on his cream sweater over the white shirt he’s wearing, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and picks up his gym bag. “lead the way.”

the walk to suga’s house is not unfamiliar- they’ve walked this route hundreds of times for sleepovers and video game sessions. the only thing that’s different today is the itch in daichi’s fingers that makes him want to reach out for suga’s hands, wrist, anything suga might be willing to give him. he doesn’t quite yet understand what this is, what this means, what had changed. but there’s an itch in his fingers. this, daichi knows how to unravel.

when they pass by sakanoshita store, he knocks suga’s shoulder against his and jerks his head towards the doors. suga laughs under his breath, muttering something that sounds too close to “barbarian,” for daichi to let him slip away unharmed. he kicks at the back of suga’s leg.

his laughter only gets louder. 

daichi picks up a red grocery basket with the hand not holding his gym bag as suga looks at the drinks in the freezer. he comes back with a pocari sweat in each hand, shaking them playfully to get daichi’s attention. he drops them in the basket and notices daichi’s hand loosen and lower at the weight of the bottles, to which suga motions to give it to him.

daichi shakes his head. “i got it.”

“what type of vice would i be if my own selfishness got our dear captain injured?” suga teases. this, daichi knows. the light, seemingly always teasing air to suga’s voice. then, he hooks both thumbs under the strap of daichi’s gym bag, runs them apart, and lifts the bag. the parts of daichi’s shoulder where suga’s thumbs smoothed over weighs heavier than the bag ever did. suga slings the bag over his right shoulder, settling the bulk of it on his left hip. 

daichi smiles warmly, “you’re a good vice.” before any more sincerity can leak out, he adds on, “we need pork.” and leaves suga in the aisle as he walks to the meat cooler. 

he’s in between two separate packs of thinly sliced pork loin, inspecting the color, when suga returns with the basket, now full with pantry staples. “my mom needed a few things,” suga explains. 

daichi nods, putting the pinker pack of pork in the basket. “i’m done,” he announces.

“you’re sleeping over, right?” asks suga.

he nods again. “of course i am. did you forget that you invited me over?” he teases.

suga tilts his head. “then why are you getting pork to bring home now? shouldn’t we get snacks? i know you like the choco baby-” suga lifts with understanding. “are you cooking for me?” his eyes are blown wide, shock covers his face.

something warm settles in daichi’s chest. _now is not the time,_ his brain scolds while his mouth says, “duh.” he draws out the sound. 

“let’s go home quickly then,” suga says enthusiastically. he turns around and walks towards the checkout. the word ‘home’ out of suga’s mouth makes the thing in daichi’s chest grow heavier. it seems as though every passing day with suga, daichi finds things about suga to store in the back of his mind like it’s a box of mementos under his bed, to be dusted off and opened and thought about later. with time.

suga stalks off once he sets the basket on the counter for the cashier, coach’s mother, daichi assumes, to check them out. he comes back once everything is scanned and sets down a strawberry popsicle. he grins at daichi when he raises an eyebrow.

“gonna ruin your appetite,” daichi says. “didn’t even get me one, either.” he adds on.

“which is the worse offense?” suga asks.

he thinks for a moment before answering, “not getting me one.”

the grin reappears on suga’s face as he disappears and quickly comes back, handing the cashier a melona ice cream. 

suga pays after shoving away daichi’s yen in hand and they walk quietly while they eat their ice creams even though it’s the middle of winter. they get to suga’s house quickly, his parents already out of the house for the weekend on some business trip in sendai. daichi uses the shower first at suga’s insistence, claiming he has to get the kitchen ready for daichi to “work his magic.”

under the hot water is the first suga-free minute daichi’s had all day, so he thinks about the thrum underneath his skin and this weight in his chest that presses on his lungs.

suga is his vice captain. a great volleyball player. good with kids. an inspiration to their kouhai. important. beautiful. someone daichi doesn’t want to leave after they graduate. someone daichi wouldn’t mind cooking for every night. daichi isn’t stupid, isn’t this what-

no. he can’t.

because suga is his best friend. his closest friend. daichi will not throw this, not throw _them_ away for a feeling he might be mistaking for…

mistaking for…

he can’t even say it to himself. he settles on ‘like.’ daichi will not pull at buried roots in attempts to shed light on them, he will not move a mountain this steady in the name of something as unsteady as his own feelings for suga.

feelings for suga. he has feelings. for suga.

ah, fuck.

daichi steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. he pads to suga’s room in a daze, trying to pretend that he didn’t just have a huge revelation.

feelings for suga. he can’t stop saying it, turning the words over like a pearl in his hands, until he’s seen it from every angle and becomes transfixed at its gleam in the sunlight. it makes sense, he thinks. who else would there be if not for- 

he pushes that thought down quickly. in attempts to get himself back to normal, daichi shoves any thought of suga in association with _romance_ down, like he’s trying to fit a big, cottony blanket in a too small backpack. he tugs on a blue hoodie he obtained from his bag and walks downstairs, where there is suga hip-checking a cabinet drawer closed. 

“hey,” daichi greets.

“hey!” suga’s head turns to look at him. “i put out some pots and pans and stuff.”

he walks over to the counter where the grocery bags are. “thanks.”

suga makes an affirmative sound. “can i,” he starts, voice quieter than before. “can i watch?”

“watch what?” he lifts the pork from the bag. 

“you cook, idiot.” suga huffs.

“not with that attitude,” daichi huffs back. 

suga climbs on a stool and rests his feet on the highest ring, stretching his arms on his knees. “i’m watching,” he decides.

daichi sighs dramatically. he cooks sugar and water together to make a light caramel, putting more water in a kettle. 

suga appears next to him. “what are you doing?”

“making a caramel,” daichi responds easily, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon.

he makes a sound of wonder. “caramel? what are we having?”

“you ask a lot of questions.” daichi adds a little boiling water from the kettle to the amber colored caramel. “it’s a surprise,” he finally answers. he adds sake and shoyu to the pot, giving it a final stir and setting it off the heat. daichi moves to the counter, suga on his trail. he starts to chop scallions on the diagonal. after, he cuts the plastic off the pork with a knife, setting all the meat on a cutting board, starting to cut slits along the fat cap.

“what’s that for?” suga asks.

“so it stays flat when i cook it,” daichi gets a large pan heating up with a bit of oil. “trying to learn all my secrets?”

suga laughs cheekily. “something like that.”

he admits the company is nice, someone interested enough in his process to ask what he thinks, why he does things the way he does them. the only thing that would make it better is if suga would wrap his arms around his waist and rest his cheek on daichi’s shoulder-

_come on_. he thought this line of thinking was safely tucked away in the recesses of his brain. he distracts himself by laying the pork down on the hot pan, listening to the satisfying sizzle. 

suga asks yet another question. “what got you into cooking?”

“my mom,” he replies quickly. he flips the pork slices over with chopsticks. “i watched her cook for us when i was younger. then i started playing volleyball and started cooking my own meals. muscles and repair,” he shrugs. “grounding, too. emiko and kata like it when i cook.”

“grounding,” suga repeats quietly. “do you ever feel caged in?” 

daichi pauses. _not really,_ is his first thought. the world is vast, it would take him a hundred or so years to walk the whole earth. he doesn’t feel suffocation at letting branches grow from the main trunk, reaching out farther away from home. for daichi, it’s his way of flying.

flying. oh. daichi thinks he understands now. “sometimes.” it’s not entirely a lie, sometimes he feels as though he is stuck in between a rocky shore of a beach, wedged in between heavy boulders with only gaps of light to see through. daichi pours most of the sauce into the pan, letting it reduce down and soak into the meat.

suga nods. “i think i get hinata,” he starts. “i want to see what’s in the clouds.” the shine in his eyes is wistful, wanting.

he moves to grab two bowls and opens the rice cooker, where sugawara-san had cooked rice before she left. he packs it into their bowls, pushing it down against the paddle. daichi spoons sauce over the rice before laying down the grilled pork in a fan-like manner. the rest of the sauce is poured over before he garnishes with a sprinkle of scallions. “nothing wrong with that.” he supplies.

daichi receives a smile. “what does this one mean?” suga asks him.

he furrows his brow. “butadon?” 

suga laughs before saying, “you said that every meal is made with a message. what about this one?”

he stops to think. he can’t really say, _“i needed to feel better because i realized that i might really like you. and cooking calms me down,”_ to suga’s face. so instead, he says, “how are you going to reach the clouds on an empty stomach?”

suga laughs again. “itadakimasu,” he says with a slight bow. daichi repeats the motion.

he needs to ask suga what brand of rice his family gets because it’s perfectly sticky but retains its texture. the pork is savory and slightly sweet, smoky char from the pan grilling. he lifts his head to look at suga expectantly for a review.

he swallows before meeting daichi’s eyes. “really good,” he says. “looked easy, too. i might learn this one.”

“giving me a run for my money, huh?” daichi teases. 

suga retorts, “you’d have to get paid for doing this first.”

and isn’t that an idea? daichi, doing this professionally? yet another comment makes its way into daichi’s mental box under the bed. 

he refocuses to suga and the food in front of him, smiling at suga’s positive review. 

daichi lets one dangerous thought pass, and it’s that maybe he could grow used to this.

3: 

he doesn’t let himself want this, want suga, because he doesn’t want to disrupt the balance of the team. he lets hinata and kageyama do that enough, the team doesn’t need their own foundation to pick up and say “you know what? maybe i want this too.” the first years, they can act on what they feel and damn all the consequences. daichi is a little too old, a little too fearful to be the same way. he’s a third year, too. in a few months, they’ll all be gone and he won’t see asahi and suga every day anymore and it feels like tectonic plates shifting- over time the centimeters grow and once daichi takes notice, they’ll be continents apart. if only he were so lucky to be ignorant enough to not see the distance grow, but the curse of being suga’s best friend is that he feels every millimeter’s pull as if it was pulling at his own tendons. 

that is what daichi tells himself right up to graduation. right up to daichi walking suga home for the last time. “are you sure you have to go so far?” he asks. it’s supposed to be light, teasing, but it comes off as though daichi’s rough hands are trying to push the continents back together, form them into one again. push wet dirt over the seam and pretend there was never a seam at all.

suga laughs, a tinge of sadness to it. “are you sure you couldn’t come with me?” they’re both skipping town, but suga’s school is an hour away from daichi’s. it’s not too bad, but daichi spent the last three years of his life seeing suga every day and now, an hour feels like suga might as well just said he was going to china.

“i’m going to miss you,” he says, heart heavy. he’s going to miss all of them, but not like this. never like this, never like whatever they’ve molded together for the past three years is suddenly shattering on asphalt. never trust daichi with something breakable, because he will grip his fingers too tight until shards find their way into his fingers or he will drop it like it burned him. this is a simple law of nature, daichi does not know how to be gentle. he only knows how to be seismic shifts and angry earthquakes.

“i’m not going to die,” suga teases. he feels the way suga is trying to be strong for both of them. it makes daichi want to tear up harder, that at the end of the day when daichi is done being stiff, he can go liquid with suga. and suga will hold him.

daichi hugs him instead of responding. suga’s fingers ghost over the nape of his neck, daichi feeling the distant warmth until suga’s hand settles on the back of his head, rubbing his thumb in circles on the short hair. 

“it’s okay, dai,” suga says quietly, like daichi will break if he were to speak any louder. “we’ll be okay.”

“i know,” he responds in the same way.  
  


this is what daichi tells himself the week after suga moves in, which is the last week he has at home: it wouldn’t have worked out. they were in third year, a fledgling bird of a relationship would not have been able to travel the distance between them. this is, of course, assuming suga was interested in daichi at all. he tells himself that having suga at a distance is better than not having him at all. so he tries to forget that suga is off to learn how to teach children with the grace of a feather falling, and that daichi is still building castles with mud. 

time passes. daichi moves into tohoku medical for sports medicine. he thought about suga suggesting to pursue cooking professionally but he wants to keep cooking as a hobby, something intimate. he was surprised to see that his roommate is none other than iwaizumi hajime, who mentioned he was going in for the same subject but never mentioned where. he and suga text. they snap, and facetime, and send audio messages to each other in between coffee runs. 

but of course, things happen. there’s missed calls and poor connection and most of all, he just misses suga. his laugh isn’t the same through tinny headphones, his face isn’t the same in blurry pixels on the screen. as the year goes on, they get busier and cancelation texts with sad emoticons start to replace the call. the goodnight and goodmorning texts start to come less often, recaps of their days get shorter. they talk less. their islands drift. 

so things change. and daichi is a little afraid of that. but he is also famously resilient, so he makes things that do not change. the weight of a knife in his right hand does not change. the way he cuts scallions on a diagonal does not change.

daichi and iwaizumi are sitting on the couch together one september night, eating cup noodles as they watch pacific rim. 

“sugawara’s coming tomorrow,” iwaizumi says conversationally.

daichi nods, in a sort of dumbstruck manner. after a month or two of radio silence and daichi trying to get on with his life and be the person who does the leaving versus the person who gets left behind, suga texts him out of the blue if he could come over as his classes got canceled. daichi had accepted eagerly, even if he was drowning under homework.

“do you want me to leave?” he asks, not once taking his eyes off the tv. living with iwaizumi is pretty easy. he cleans up after himself, does his part of the chores, quiet. helps him with homework, becomes his gym buddy. the only downside is that they practically have a third roommate with how much oikawa is over their dorm. don’t tell anyone, but daichi doesn’t mind. oikawa kind of reminds him of suga.

“why would you need to leave?” daichi responds. “we’re not gonna do anything, perv.”

“i didn’t even say anything,” iwaizumi laughs, “you literally brought it up on your own.” after a beat, he continues, “i’ll stay at shittykawa’s.”

daichi rolls his eyes. “when are you guys going to get together?”

iwaizumi turns to look at him, scowl on his face. iwaizumi can be a little scary, daichi remembers. “when are you guys going to get together?” he says in a high pitched voice, poorly imitating daichi. “what about you and sugawara?”

“it’s not like that,” daichi says. “we don’t go to the same school.”

“so?” iwaizumi shrugs. 

daichi replies automatically, “it’s not that easy.”

“isn’t it?” he retorts. “aren’t you supposed to be the simple one, sawamura?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” daichi accuses. “i would hit you if you weren’t holding food.”

“mhm,” iwaizumi hums, “just think about it, yeah?” iwaizumi is grounded, simple, does things honestly. he reminds daichi of who he was when he was a captain. maybe it’s time to be those things again, he thinks. lately everything has been so _complicated_ , makes him spiral easily and all his trains of thought leave the station at the same time, leaving him to wonder which one to chase after. 

daichi does as he’s told and thinks about it in bed that night. what could go wrong if he told suga that he likes him? _everything_ , a part of his brain supplies, the part that daichi’s let run wild in the past few months and made him fearful. maybe letting suga know wouldn’t even be so bad, he would get it and it’d be awkward for a few days but at least this way, daichi would be able to move on. he tried to do so when he got here, throwing himself into work and friends, but all suga had to do was text him for daichi to run back. the question isn’t if suga would react poorly and want nothing to do with daichi, it’s if daichi is okay with causing shifts in their plates. would he be able to handle the tension? would he be able to water himself down so as to not make suga feel weird? he’s not a captain anymore, so what is he afraid of?

he doesn’t know yet, just knows the clench of his chest and automatic refusal to be vulnerable. he just needs a little more time.   
  


daichi awaits suga’s arrival at the train station on an early friday afternoon. september is chilly, he wears a thin green windbreaker and scrolls through his phone as he waits for the train to pull in. 

when it does, the lack of people on the platform make it easy for daichi to spot suga, but he feels like a bucket of ice water has been poured over him. only a fool would forget how beautiful suga is, but seeing him now after all these months makes daichi… speechless. fire burns in his stomach the way it did when they were in high school. he suspects the flame never went out, quietly flickering until suga’s mere presence threw gasoline on it.

he exclaims, “daichi!” and pulls him in for a hug. daichi’s muscle memory functions and he holds suga tightly around his middle. 

“suga,” he says, a little breathless.

“come on,” suga grabs his wrist and starts walking. ah, this is what daichi had been afraid of this whole time. suga is bright, a whirlwind, fast and without abandon. he is no match for slow moving earth. 

“you don’t know which way to go,” daichi realizes and regains his mental footing. 

suga looks at him and smiles. oh, how daichi’s missed this. oh, how the full force of daichi’s feelings hit him like he’s a roof being crushed under a tree knocked down by a storm. “that’s why i have you,” suga says.

the warmth in his stomach grows branches and pretty leaves. daichi changes the grip, so he’s the one holding suga and tugs him out of the station.

the walk to daichi’s dorm room is typical of them, they ask each other how school’s been and talk their ears off, suga points to buildings and daichi tells him stories he hasn’t heard before. it’s weird to think that daichi has lead a life, even if only for a few months, without suga. it’s weird to think that suga’s made friends that daichi doesn’t know, has gone to parties where daichi isn’t there. but it’s easy to walk at the same pace together, gentle teasing and shoving, making plans. he wonders if it could always be easy with the two of them. 

  
  


daichi unlocks the door, pushing it open for suga to walk in first, hopping back to not get run over by suga’s suitcase. there’s iwaizumi holding a huge bucket of popcorn as he swings his legs off the kitchen counter. oikawa is sitting across iwaizumi, a leg on each side of a chair turned backwards, elbows on the top of the back. 

“there he is!” suga announces loudly, leaning his suitcase against the dining table.

oikawa stands up. “the dumbest bitch i’ve ever seen!” he opens his arms for a hug.

suga does the same, walking towards him. “the ugliest bastard i’ve had the displeasure of knowing!”

they rock each other back and forth in the hug, suga’s head on oikawa’s shoulder and arms around his waist. daichi walks over to where iwaizumi is and stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

the popcorn is plenty buttery, but is also seasoned. “furikake?” he turns to iwaizumi, who nods in response. “good man,” daichi says. he handles most of the cooking, but iwaizumi isn’t completely useless. he often offers to help out and even makes dinner some nights.

oikawa has let go of suga and gone to put his shoes on. “let’s go, iwa-chan! daichi-kun and suga-chan have a lot to do,” he says in a trailing voice. oikawa is endearing and more importantly, he would never do iwaizumi like that, but _god_ does he want to deck the guy sometimes.

iwaizumi hops off the counter and follows. “bye, guys,” he sets the bowl of popcorn on the table. “good seeing you, sugawara.” ever the peacemaker, daichi thinks.

“see you later, iwaizumi!” suga waves off. “you too, piece of shit!” both daichi and iwaizumi bark out a laugh. oikawa flips him off in response. 

suga gives his attention to daichi, hopping up on the counter where iwaizumi was, and takes his popcorn too. “i’m starving,” he starts. “what are we having?”

“it’s a surprise,” daichi replies. he gets out a pack of silken tofu and ground pork from the fridge. he puts a pan on low heat while tying on his apron, then throws in three types of chilis, followed by oil.

suga gasps, “daichi! are you- ?” daichi smiles brightly. he’s been saving this recipe for a good occasion, developing it with iwaizumi by his side. both their tastebuds have been singed off, but imagining suga’s shiny smile makes it all worth it. “can i help?”

daichi considers it for a moment. “you can cube the tofu,” he gets a cutting board and knife for suga. “you’ve done this before, right?” 

“how do you think i live on my own?” suga wonders aloud. he takes the knife from daichi and brushes against his knuckles, making daichi clench his jaw.

“miserably?” daichi guesses.

suga laughs out, “like any other college student?” he peels back the paper cover and turns the tofu over on the cutting board, using paper towels to pat it dry. then, with laserpoint focus, suga concentrates on cutting. he drags the knife slowly so as to not mess it up. daichi wants to chuckle a bit- tofu’s fragile but suga is acting like he’s performing liver surgery. the amount of focus he holds and how much he wants to get it right endears daichi, who takes the chili oil off the heat and pours it into a bowl. he gets more oil going and puts in peppercorns. daichi adds in ginger and garlic, stirring with a wooden spoon.

suga is still cubing a single pack of tofu, he’s made progress no matter how slow, each cut made pristinely. daichi cranks the heat up to high, throwing in ground pork. suga finishes not long after that, giving daichi a satisfied, “done!”

“oh, finally,” daichi teases. he adds spicy bean paste, following it with chicken broth. he puts a lid on the pan and lets it simmer. “i thought dinner would be done tomorrow at the rate you were cutting at.” 

“shut up!” suga pushes at him lightly, a light pink glowing at his cheeks. cute. daichi distracts himself and hides his own blush by mixing together cornstarch and water in a different bowl, quickly adding it to the pan. “what are you doing now?”

“letting it thicken,” he puts the cornstarch stained bowl in the sink. 

“cause of the cornstarch?” suga wonders. him expressing interest in how daichi cooks always makes him feel warm but twisty, like someone’s putting every part of him on display for public sight. his fingers drum at his side to keep from reaching out for suga.

“mhm,” he murmurs. when he’s satisfied with the consistency, he pours the chili oil back in. suga is hovering right over his shoulder, watching intently. daichi carefully slides the tofu into the pan, drenching it with sauce and putting the lid back on. he moves to get two bowls and packs freshly cooked rice into them. he puts a load of extra rice into his bowl; future daichi will thank him. to finish, he adds in a little sugar and sesame oil to the tofu, stirring once again.

cooking for suga is always quiet. he absorbs the information and looks on as he lets daichi exercise in his comfort zone. it’s never awkward, they just don’t need words to fill the space. he appreciates that about suga.

daichi turns the heat off and removes the lid, filling the kitchen with spicy steam. he ladles mapo tofu into both bowls and hands suga a spoon. they move to the dining table, sitting across from each other. the customary _itdakimasu_ is exchanged but daichi waits to dig in, watching suga take his first bite. he makes a pleased sound, jaw moving and then his throat bobs when he swallows. 

daichi asks, “do you l-” 

“could be spicier,” suga concludes. “but it’s good. always is, dai.” 

he isn’t sure which burns hotter- the mapo tofu or his cheeks.

but daichi did use four types of chilis as well as spicy bean paste and it’s still not spicy enough? the hell is wrong with suga? he takes a bite. daichi outdoes himself again, the mapo tofu is full and rich and also… really fucking spicy. he coughs, swallowing it down and taking deep breaths. once he recovers via an entire bottle of pocari sweat (suga laughs at him the entire time he suffers), he asks, “this isn’t spicy enough for you? are you some type of sadist or something?” 

“masochist is the term you’re looking for,” suga replies easily, eating the tofu like it’s nothing.

“bastard!” daichi chokes out.

at least suga still liked it. _always is, dai,_ rings in his ears.

4: 

the gods are especially merciful on daichi these days, because he and suga both have a day off only a week after suga came over. he gives up on the concept of moving on (as if he was ever going to succeed) once he realizes maybe their islands aren’t drifting apart. instead, it’s like birds flocking south in the winter, taking some time away from home but always coming back. they decided over the phone that since suga wanted to be outside, no matter no chilly, it was only right that they have a picnic.

“you just want me to cook for you,” daichi had said.

“do you blame me?” suga dodges. “a struggling college student has to do what he has to do in order to get a _delicious, homecooked_ meal, daichi.”

daichi laugh is sharp and bright. “flattery will get you nowhere.”

“‘but it’ll get somewhere with you,’ he says, before making his gorgeous best friend the spiciest mapo tofu he’s ever eaten,” suga narrates.

“i’ll hang up on you,” daichi threatens, ignoring the gorgeous part. “you’re buying dessert.”

“deal.” suga agrees easily. “will you get me from the train station?”

“you don’t even have to ask,” daichi lets slip out. _shit,_ he thinks. he sounds so whipped. he quickly tries to backtrack. “um, i mean- what type of host would i be if- uhh.. um,” it fails miserably.

suga’s laughter saves him, “i’ll see you on thursday.” his voice has this odd amusement to it that daichi’s not really sure what to think about.

  
  
  


on wednesday afternoon, daichi gets to work. but not before he suffers a little longer.

“a picnic?” iwaizumi quirks his eyebrow amusedly. he’s sitting sideways on the couch, one leg spread across the arm and the other planted near his calf, arm propped up on his knee.

“that’s not weird, right?” daichi is sitting at his desk, textbook open and not a single word digested. he’s turned around in his chair with his arm curled around the back, twisting his pencil. 

“not weird,” iwaizumi starts, “just a little…” he lets his wrist go limp in a hand gesture that daichi is sure oikawa taught him.

daichi huffs out a laugh of surprise, “friends can have a meal together.”

“sure, but isn’t everything different when you like them?” damn iwaizumi and his logic. daichi is going to make him pay with oikawa talk tonight.

“don’t you have class?” daichi deflects.

iwaizumi gets up easily from the couch, dusting himself off. how the hell does he make everything look so _cool?_ “whatever, sawamura.” he flashes a peace sign before leaving.

“bye!” daichi calls after the door has shut. he feels like he lost. he gets up to start cooking, telling himself that he can do homework after. 

after tying his apron on, daichi puts on music, a quiet little playlist he has specifically for when he cooks, or reads, or just needs to relax. he’s making curry for the picnic, since he’s already done mapo tofu. daichi likes familiarity, but he is not a one trick pony. he peels two potatoes and an onion, cutting the potatoes into large pieces and soaking them in a bowl of water. with the onion, he cuts them into slivers. he opens the fridge to retrieve a pack of chicken thighs, proceeding to trim and then cut them into large chunks.

while he starts to cut carrots, he begins to think about how nice it would be if suga were here. daichi likes the quietness of cooking, him humming to the music, and it’s not like they talk a lot when suga is here either. suga lets him work and asks from a place of curiosity and daichi wants it, just a bit. wants suga’s watchful eyes on him and ‘presents-on-christmas’ face when he tastes something for the first time. daichi crushes garlic with the side of his knife and grates ginger.

he gets a large pot heating up with a little oil, first sauteing the onions. daichi feels this sort of ache in his body, which is out of place since the kitchen is the one place he can escape all his worries. 

that is, until he brought his biggest worry into the kitchen for the first time.

to daichi’s credit, he didn’t know suga was going to be as big of a problem as he is until love hit him like a lightning strike.

he puts in the garlic and ginger into the pot, continuing to stir. he knows the ache in his hands, wanting to hold suga’s and feel his palms until daichi knows the trail of veins like it’s his own. but the sensation in the crook of his neck and shoulder are new, imagining what it’d be like if suga’s forehead dropped between the juncture. would daichi be able to feel suga humming to music against his shoulder? would he be able to feel the poke of suga’s nose?

daichi puts in the chicken next. dear god, he is so helpless. what happened to sturdy daichi, who never made things harder than they had to be? he forgets that nature can be repetitively worried as well, tides crashing into rock continuously until it erodes. he slides sliced carrot from the cutting board into the pot. 

this thing he feels for suga makes his foundation rocky, but most of all, it makes him feel vulnerable. it makes him feel like a cracked open chestnut, insides being put onto display for consumption. ew, daichi scrunches his nose at the thought. that’s a little gross, but _still_. daichi feels raw and open, something he doesn’t particularly enjoy feeling.

daichi pours in chicken broth. he gets to work on the next thing- onigiri. he grabs a bowl of fresh rice from the cooker, as well as salted salmon, nori, and kosher salt. he rubs salt in between his wet hands before forming rice into a triangle shape, creating a little depression to put in shredded salted salmon. he packs the rice neatly, wrapping the onigiri in a nori blanket. he makes a few more onigiri before washing his hands to add mirin and sake to the curry, skimming it while he’s there, as well as throwing in the potatoes. 

he lets the curry simmer while he makes 12 big onigiri in total, planning to set aside a few for iwaizumi and oikawa. never let anyone say that daichi is not a kind man. he scoops a bit of broth into a separate bowl where he dissolves the instant curry block and then reintegrates it into the big pot, stirring. he lets the curry thicken on low heat, during which he manages to read a few pages of his textbook, completely ignoring his chair and choosing to stand above his desk in case the curry needed anything.   
  


thursday rolls around like daichi getting out of bed. he gets to the station ten minutes before suga’s train arrives, wearing a deep purple university hoodie and picnic basket in hand. he had laid down a blue table cloth in case of spills, packed strawberries and aloe vera drinks for the both of them. _domestic,_ he thinks. _whipped_ , a voice in his head, that’s dangerously close to what iwaizumi sounds like, says.

he waits until suga gets off the train and spots him first- when he shouts out daichi’s name, he feels content. the familiarity makes him remember every time suga has called out his name, following him when daichi’s been here all along. strange acceptance washes over him, like he was stupid to ever deny this. isn’t this what love feels like?

he grins bright. “you ready?”

suga slightly snorts, “you’re looking too happy for me to be uncomfortable, captain.” he starts walking and daichi starts following. “what do you have up your sleeve?”

“my arm!” he exclaims, excited at the prospect of a dad joke. daichi laughs harder when suga hits him. they walk close to each other on the sidewalk, trying to get to the park that suga pointed out last week.

“you didn’t save it?” daichi asks, once they circled around the same block for the second time.

“why would i?” suga retorts. “ _you_ live here!”

“you chose the place!” daichi exclaims. 

“you live here!” suga repeats, throwing his hands in the air, “why don’t you know where it is?” 

“you were going to trust _me_ with directions?” he deflects.

suga freezes and stops walking. “yeah.” he nods, lost in thought. “i overestimated you.”

daichi is satisfied that he won the argument, but at what cost? “are you thinking about the time-”

“you got me, shimizu, and asahi lost in our own hometown?” suga interrupts. he grins cheekily. “i’ll never let that go.”

daichi groans. “so are we ever going to get to this park? the food’s going to get cold.”

suga pulls his phone out of his back pocket, presumably to pull up his maps app. “so you do need me after all,” he murmurs, eyes glued to the screen.

daichi furrows his brow. of course he needs suga, what is that supposed to mean? suga is… suga is the breeze in the grass, the gentle encouragement daichi needs to pick himself up off the ground. and most of all, he wants suga. admitting it to himself feels like a breath of fresh air and a sense of fear all at once. he’s afraid of the magnitude of these feelings, since when did he like suga? how did it take him so long to realize? but it’s refreshing to finally know why suga has been the only person to get under his skin all these years, why daichi stops when suga enters a room. falling in love with suga was the easiest thing he’s ever done, so easy he didn’t realize he was doing it, like breathing.

before daichi can pull himself out of his head, suga tugs him in the right direction. he pretends like he didn’t say anything, but the words replay in daichi’s mind. _so you do need me after all._ what made suga think he hasn’t needed him since the day they met? 

the playful banter continues on their walk until they finally get to the park, choosing a part where the land meets in a curve, jutting out into the water. dirt and rocks line the short distance between the land and the lake, there is a big tree in the middle, overshadowing a part of the shore and all of the nearby grass. suga puts down his blanket there, sitting criss-cross, and looks over the water. his face is hard set, determined, the way he gets when he told daichi he wasn’t going to give up. quiet focus, humming like a motor.

daichi sits down in the same position, but faces suga. his trance snaps and he spins around quickly to face daichi. “what are we having?” he asks, eyes bright. daichi scoots back to place the basket in between them, opening both sides and pulling out two thermos. “curry,” he places them on the blanket. “onigiri,” lifts the tupperware container full of onigiri and puts them next to the thermos. “strawberries,” he repeats the motion. “aloe vera.” he finishes, handing the strawberry flavored one to suga and puts down the original flavor in his lap. 

suga opens one of the thermos, bringing the container up to his nose to sniff dramatically. “you spoil me,” he reaches for a spoon in the picnic basket. “itadakimasu,” he holds the thermos up in a cheers.

daichi holds his own container the same way after he unscrews the lid. “itadakimasu,” he repeats. curry is a comfort food, daichi had it frequently growing up and likes to make it in college now when he’s especially missing karasuno. it’s only been a few months but karasuno was his family and the fruits of his labor. running extra practices and playing as coach in his first two years and then karasuno blooms during his third year. it had been hard to leave behind something he built with his own hands. curry feels like chasing his siblings in the yard when he was in middle school, the tang of sake reminds him of his mother asking him if he ate yet as a sign of her love. it’s good. it’s really, really good.

suga reaches for the onigiri, looking at the rice triangle in his hands fondly even before he takes a bite. daichi assumes it’s because he has good family memories tied to onigiri. suga swallows before saying, “shiozake is my favorite.”

daichi didn’t know that one. he makes a mental note of it. he nods for suga to keep talking.

“you need a compliment?” suga teases.

“i need to get paid one way or another.” daichi says, faux serious.

suga laughs softly, “perfect curry, even if it was made from a box and isn’t spicy.” 

daichi gasps, scandalized. “from a box? how dare you insult me like that? after all i’ve done?”

suga’s laugh gets louder. “listen daichi, i’m no cooking prodigy like you are, but i know zeppin brand curry when i taste it.”

“what about the onigiri?” he presses.

he grins brighter, daichi has to squint a bit past the gleam. “incredible. i used to get shiozake onigiri from the corner store in middle school.” 

daichi’s cheek gets the better of him. he really is turning into suga, huh? “you had friends before me?”

suga huffs offendedly, before going soft. “no one like you.” he takes another bite of onigiri. “so when you make two things, is it two separate messages? or one big one?”

daichi is so shocked at the sudden admission that the question doesn’t transmit to his brain. “huh? separate..?”

suga rolls his eyes and lowers his voice, imitating daichi. “each meal is a message because you’re making it with how you feel.” he relays, “i feel like i have to remind you of your own philosophy every time we do this.” 

“one big message.” daichi manages to stutter out.

“what is it?” suga says calmly, as if he hasn’t said things that made daichi’s heart feel like it wants to leave his ribcage like a hatching chick, tapping on its eggshell cage.

daichi blurts out what he’s been thinking all along. “i need you.” 

suga tilts his head in question, easy expression dropping. “what?”

“i need you,” he repeats. daichi dug his grave, now he has to lie in it. but more importantly- he’s willing to put his pride aside to let suga know how much he means to daichi. “what you said earlier- when we were lost. how could you think- i’ve always needed you. i still do. that will never change.” he says, firmly. because what is daichi if not willing to make things stay the same, willing to push landmasses together with his bare hands until his skin breaks when the earth shifts? “i think i-”

“i love you.” suga pushes the words out into the air between them, a statement of wonder and awe. his eyes are wide and fixed onto daichi as if he’s never seen him before.

it’s daichi’s turn to be shocked. “you- you…” he gestures frantically between them. “me?” 

“who else?” suga’s smile is in defeat. he looks down. “there was no one else. to me.”

“me neither,” he breathes out. suga’s head snaps up in shock like he didn’t believe for a second that daichi could love him back, even if he just told suga that he needs him. “i love you.” the shapes his mouth forms in speaking the words are foreign, but the thoughts are not. the warmth that he feels from head to toe is not. _as easy as breathing_ , he thinks.

“we could have had this all along,” suga laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. daichi relates, it doesn’t feel real.

_but i’m glad it happened this way,_ daichi doesn’t say. “i was scared,” he explains. “i didn’t want things to change.” 

“this,” suga gestures between them, “would have never happened if things always stayed the same,” he says in a kind of ‘don’t you see?’ way. “i’ve wanted this- wanted you for so long.” _do you feel it, too?_ suga asks wordlessly. this connection alone, the ability to know what he’s thinking without speech is proof enough. “i’ve wanted you for so long,” he repeats, swishing the words around in his mouth to get used to the feeling. his smile goes from soft to teasing. “you and the onigiri.”

daichi mirrors suga’s mischief, “are you sure it’s not just the onigiri?” 

suga laughs, leaning in, and daichi just can’t help himself. he meets suga halfway to kiss him, _be gentle be gentle be gentle_ , a mantra in his mind. but when his palm comes up to cradle suga’s face, what he feels is not glass or a spider’s thin webbing. he feels cool skin and tender muscle, things that are durable under daichi’s hands. suga will not break, but he still tries to be soft, be what he thinks suga wants him to be. suga’s lips are cold, too, moving eagerly against daichi’s own. he makes an embarrassing sound when suga licks his way into daichi’s mouth, making suga laugh. and daichi laughs with him, trailing after his mouth when suga pulls away just for a second. at this, he smiles harder and pulls daichi back in, but their teeth clack because the smiles on their faces are too wide. and it makes them laugh harder. daichi’s hands drop to suga’s waist, position a little awkward since they’re still both sitting criss-cross from each other. suga’s hands cup daichi’s face, holding him like _he’s_ the fragile one. when daichi opens his eyes, he sees suga looking at him first, so fondly, like daichi’s a…

like he’s an onigiri. daichi bursts out laughing, burying his face in suga’s neck. 

“what?” suga chuckles, carding his hand through daichi’s hair. this sudden touch, having suga be in his space is so addicting. he wants this for as long as suga will have him. 

“you were looking at me the way you looked at the onigiri,” daichi says, hot breath on suga’s skin.

“‘cause i want to eat you,” he tries to tease but the tone of his voice is too endeared to have any bite. 

daichi looks up to find suga looking at him, adoringly. has he always done that? looked at daichi like he’s the only man that matters? has daichi always missed it? 

“you’re embarrassing.” daichi says, with no malice at all.

“i have to be,” suga opens his legs, letting daichi come closer and plant his feet on the grass, one leg thrown on either side of suga. “that’s my duty as your boyfriend.”

daichi’s face goes into suga’s neck again. “boyfriend,” he tests the words out loud. “you’re my boyfriend.” this time, he says it in amazement, kissing the column of suga’s neck.

  
  
  


not much changes. they finish their food, they banter, but they’re so touchy. daichi doesn’t mind it one bit, keeping a hand on suga’s leg or dropping his head down on suga’s shoulder. the recurring hum under the skin of daichi’s fingertips seems to calm down when he touches suga, like he’s transferring the electricity to him. daichi is pressed against the trunk of the tree, suga in between the v of his legs. his arms are around suga’s waist and chin tucked on suga’s shoulder, who has a youtube video pulled up for both of them to watch. daichi would love to spend this time with suga, even if it’s just quietly doing something together but his stomach is full, the wind is nice, and suga is right there. it’s not entirely his fault that his eyes keep falling shut no matter how many times he jolts awake, so he lets himself fall asleep on suga’s shoulder.

who’s his boyfriend.

he presses a smile onto suga’s skin.

“daichi,” suga shakes his knee. “daiiii- chi.” 

he burrows closer and hums in response. 

“my train’s gonna leave,” suga says in a sing-song voice.

daichi hums again. he lifts his head up and blinks his eyes open, looking out onto the water. oh. so he wasn’t dreaming? this is real? “stay,” he mumbles, inhaling the fresh detergent scent of suga’s clothes.

and suga does.  
  


5: 

daichi busies himself so frequently with trying to pull things together, mold into one, he forgets that he is allowed to move as well. he does not have to wait as the world spins and leaves him behind, he can simply move with it. he thought that they couldn’t do the distance, he couldn’t do the awkwardness, and maybe he couldn’t do it alone. but a relationship is a two way street and sugawara koushi is so many things, but a quitter is not one of them.

they make time. they will change the universe’s calendar if it meant that they could see each other for a mere hour. fighting against things he can’t control is a battle daichi knows all too well, but he has never known it with someone else, never had someone by his side to grin at him before charging into battle. it doesn’t feel like he’s collapsing in exhaustion at the top anymore, it feels like a soft squeeze of hand and reassuring nudge. 

when daichi gets home from the picnic, iwaizumi takes one look at his face and figures it all out.

“congratulations,” he says, barely looking up from his homework. 

“what?” daichi drops the picnic basket unceremoniously onto the dining table. 

“you and sugawara,” iwaizumi sighs, like he can’t believe he has to explain this to daichi. “you got together.” it’s more of a statement than anything.

daichi holds back a grin, “how’d you know?”

iwaizumi gestures to his own face with his pencil in a circular motion. “it was either that, or some guy on the street sold you “special candy.”” 

he laughs. 

  
  
  


he and suga have been dating for a few weeks now, and being with suga has been the most calm daichi has felt since he first realized he liked suga. he’ll say it a thousand times over but it’ll never lose its meaning- being with suga is easy. he knows how to be with him, the blessing of being suga’s best friend is that he knows him as if suga was an extension of his own hand, he knows how the joints will bend when he clenches or how the cartilage will protrude when he flexes. 

they’re sitting on the couch together, legs tangled, when suga turns to him, “will you cook for me?” there was no way daichi would ever say no, but with suga’s signature look of awe when daichi’s cooking is mentioned… well. he’d be a criminal to refuse, right?

daichi had expected the request and put out all the stuff he needed out on the counter before he went out to walk suga from the train station. “sure,” he gets up easily, ignoring the urge to sit back down and press his skin against suga’s. 

“wait- that means you’re not gonna give me attention anymore,” suga realizes. “daichi, come back! we don’t need food, we can just cuddle until we die of starvation.”

daichi freezes to pretend to consider this for a moment. “nah,” he says after the pause.

“you’re the worst,” suga declares. he wraps the blanket closer to his shoulders. 

he walks to the kitchen, looking at suga as he ties on his apron, “i make you a nice meal every time you come around. who have you been dating, if i’m the worst? fashion designers that make you a new suit for every date?” 

suga’s laugh becomes louder as he follows daichi into the kitchen, shedding the blanket on the couch. he takes his place behind daichi, wrapping his arms around daichi’s waist and hooking his chin on daichi’s right shoulder. “what are we having?” the action reminds daichi of a thought he had, not too long ago. the weight of suga’s chin on his shoulder is comforting, he notes. what past daichi didn’t take into consideration was suga’s cold front pressed against his back, shielding him from the big, bad outside world. daichi has always been the protector, the captain, the warrior. in spite of all of this, suga holds him like anything would be immediately met with an uppercut if it even dared to look daichi’s way. 

“when have i ever answered that question?” daichi tenderizes two pork chops using the flat side of a mallet. 

“once,” suga mumbles. “the first time.”

daichi gently knocks his head against suga’s. “you remembered?”

he nods, “after that, you always refuse to tell me. you just say,” suga lowers his voice to imitate daichi, “it’s a surprise.” 

daichi laughs, the sound resonating deep in his chest. “what makes you think this time will be different?”

suga scoots closer, “‘cause it’s the first time you’re cooking for me as my _boyfriend_ ,” daichi can’t see him but he imagines that suga is waggling his eyebrows. 

daichi huffs instead of responding. he heats up a pan with a bit of oil, moving on to cover the pork in a thin layer of flour. he then beats three eggs in one bowl and pours panko into another. he’s glad he already put all this stuff out because his limited movement with suga attached to his back is proving to be largely endearing, but he’s caged in to this one part of the kitchen counter. once the pan is hot enough, daichi dips the pork into the egg, then the panko, before finally laying the cutlet down into the hot pan where the sizzle makes daichi feel pleased with himself. he repeats the process with the second pork cutlet.

“can we put on music?” suga asks, “why did you use flour and egg before panko?”

“so the panko sticks,” daichi answers. “put on something good,” he adds.

suga hums, moving away from daichi to grab his phone and turns on soft rock, songs that would play on the radio from when they were kids and still know all the words to. it’s a little like the way he loves suga, something his body knows when his consciousness doesn’t, familiar shapes that his mouth forms and muscle memory. suga comes back quickly, going back to the same position as before.

“careful,” daichi warns, since he’s now at the stove and turning over the pork in the skillet. “step left,” he instructs, so they move back to the counter. daichi mixes together dashi, mirin, shoyu, and sugar before moving on to slice an onion. “do you want to learn how to cook?”

suga stops his quiet singing, “i’ve been _trying_ to learn,” he says before turning his face to daichi’s neck, cheek pressing against daichi’s shoulder. he feels the ball of suga’s cheek stiffen up as he smiles, “but someone’s been so distracting.” 

“i haven’t even done anything,” daichi scoffs and takes out the pork to let it rest on a paper towel. he puts in the onions. 

“you don’t know what you do to me, huh?” suga hugs him tighter. “you’re so pretty.”

daichi feels himself going red. he’s been called a lot of things, but… _pretty?_ “no,” he shakes his head, distracting himself by pushing around the onions in the pan. “you’re pretty. i’m… uh…” daichi tries to think. what exactly is he? “rough,” he settles on.

“oooh,” suga says. “tell me more about _rough_ daichi.” 

“not like that,” daichi chuckles, leaning back into suga. he slices the pork into strips. “rough like,” he pauses to think. “i break things,” he shrugs. “that’s just the way i am.” _doesn’t know when to stop pressing in,_ he thinks. _can’t let go_.

“so?” suga says it like he’s an idiot. “you’re still pretty. i look at you when you’re cooking and your little nose scrunches when it doesn’t go the way you want it to,” suga’s hand comes up to swipe at daichi’s nose. “it’s adorable.” he changes the subject. “who cares if you break things? i learned this thing in my art history class, kintsugi,” daichi turns around in suga’s arms to look at the glint in his eyes. “it’s where they repair broken pottery by gluing it back together with liquid gold. they thought the cracks were something to be proud of.” he makes eye contact with daichi, holding him there.

he breaks away under the pretense of stirring onions, pouring in the dashi he mixed earlier. “but the pottery isn’t the same as it was before.” 

“so?” suga repeats. “wouldn’t things be boring if they always stayed the same?”

daichi thinks about suga’s words while he places the cut pork on top of the onions and dashi reduction. as desperate as he is to make things stay in place, stop leaves from falling at the end of summer, suga is right. snowmen can’t be built if the seasons did not change, new sandcastles can’t be built if the tides did not wash away the beach every night. a foundation cannot be laid without change, he realizes. “i don’t like change,” he admits in a rare act of vulnerability.

“i know,” suga soothes by taking daichi’s hand in between his own, thumbing at the joints. suga treats him gently, tenderly. “that’s why i’m here.”

daichi pours the eggs into the pan, watching the yellow spread out into the curves of the pan. “could you get the bowls and put rice into them?” he asks quietly.

“of course, darling,” suga kisses his cheek, leaning in close to his ear. 

daichi goes bright red and pushes at suga’s shoulder, “stop,” he draws out the syllable.

suga’s laugh fills the room as he gets the bowls and does what he’s told. daichi cuts scallions before suga comes back, hip-checking him lightly before setting the rice bowls down. daichi divides the egg and pork into two, sliding a portion onto each bowl. he splits the onions among them and pours the rest of the sauce into their bowls, finishing by sprinkling scallions on top. “katsudon,” he presents.

suga lights up, handing a pair of chopsticks to daichi that he grabbed on the way back. “itadakimasu!” 

daichi repeats him, smiling, “itadakimasu.” the katsudon itself is typical of what daichi would make, the sauce is sweet, savory, and seeped into the soft onions. the pork is crispy and the egg is fried the way he likes it, pan hot enough to create little bubbles of egg. daichi explains before suga can ask, “this one has a lot to say,” he starts, making suga tear his attention away from the bowl to daichi, “i like what you say when i cook,” the praise comes easily, “i don’t like change. or talking about how i feel,” the confession does not, “but i’m willing to try. with you.” 

suga looks at him so fondly that he doesn’t know how to act, “the food is delicious. compliments to the pretty chef,” he grins. “i’m not good at talking either, and i always get carried away,” suga repeats the words he said to daichi when he left him in their third year, “it’s okay, dai. we’ll be okay.” 

this time, daichi doesn’t tell himself anything. he simply believes suga.

+1

by the start of october, leaves fall from branches and unsurprisingly, daichi’s fingers twitch with the desire to put them back where they belong, but the urge is long subdued and fainter. 

the end of december finds suga in a supermarket, wrapped up in a thick coat and his customary blue scarf, holding two different brands of dashi. he has a teal grocery basket hooked on his arm, already containing eggs and a pack of ramen noodles. suga puts the bottle in his right hand into the basket, placing the other one back on the shelf. he just needs scallions and he’s good to go.

suga doesn’t really cook, his college meals consist of daichi’s own cooking and takeout, but he’s not completely incompetent. he’s wanted to cook for daichi since they first got together, but he had held out until he could do it for daichi’s birthday, which is tomorrow. warmth floods him at the thought of daichi, who’s coming over to his dorm tonight after class. suga imagines his dopey little smile and tired yawn and suga has to hold himself back from smiling so hard. capable, strong daichi needed him, too. even loved him. he isn’t as oblivious as daichi but after being benched during third year (which is still a complicated thing to think about, even now) and sensei telling him that maybe he should consider retiring, and leaving everyone after graduation… suga felt replaceable. that maybe everyone else was waiting for better things to come around, and they did. he never said any of it out loud and took it all with a smile. reassuring, snarky suga who’s never felt an ounce of jealousy in his life is the tornado he created, but angry, on fire suga sits in the eye of it all.

what daichi had said to him, _“i’m not good at this. but i want to try, with you.”_ of course suga had felt it too, daichi’s all he’s ever wanted since they first met. years of being skin being set ablaze when they brush hands, a sort of magnetic pull when daichi hits his sets. suga burns and burns and burns. he is tired of placating himself for the sake of something else, and maybe daichi is, too.

he rounds the corner to obtain his scallions before he sees his favorite replacement smacking a watermelon. “kageyama?!” he exclaims, walking faster to close the distance.

kageyama takes his hand away and turns to face whoever called him, “suga-san,” he says, numb with surprise. 

“what are you doing here?” suga asks, incredulously. this supermarket is a ten minute walk from suga’s dorm, which is a full _two hours_ away from karasuno. 

he shrugs, “groceries,” kageyama goes back to slapping various watermelons.

what in the absolute fuck is going on? “i’m making ramen,” suga offers, “wanna help?” he doesn’t know how the hell kageyama got here, or why he’s here, or why he’s so damn obsessed with watermelon, but he knows that he missed kageyama, who he had a special soft spot for. as airheaded as he is, this kid is going places. it never fails to wow suga that he is watching a bird grow its wings in real time. what made their situation complicated was that suga didn’t resent kageyama- he resented himself for not having the technical skill the team needed from him. but suga was their vice for a reason, karasuno lit up when he came on the court and he spent countless hours drafting plays and hand signals. suga holds the controller in his story, he gave kageyama the starter spot and let himself grow into other roles. it wasn’t kageyama’s choice to be born with this angry tsunami inside of him, pushing deeper into the shore until he swallows it whole, but it was suga’s choice to push the moon a little closer to him, let his tides grow stronger. 

kageyama nods, reaching for the handle of his own shopping basket, the kind that had wheels and was shaped like a roller suitcase. suga peers into his basket, finding protein powder, blueberries, and two packs of milk, one regular and the other strawberry.

suga points at the strawberry milk, “where’d you get that?”

kageyama points in a general direction until he starts walking. suga falls into step with him, turning his head to look at him. _shit!_ he curses inwardly. did kageyama get taller again? he voices this thought to him, who’s looking at the directories over the aisles to lead suga.

he nods again, “183.2.” he turns left into an aisle, stopping once they get to the flavored milk section.

suga sighs in defeat, grabbing a pink six-pack and putting it in his basket. 

  
  
  


they meet up again after parting ways in different check out lines and this time, suga leads them to the direction where his dorm is located. kageyama already has a milk box in his hand. “how’s the team?” he starts, conversationally, moving to carry his grocery bags in one hand.

“good,” he says, “ennoshita-san is a good captain. we won a practice match against aoba johsai last week.”

suga digests the information. ennoshita was cut out to be daichi’s protege, taking him under his wing and giving him unprompted advice on how to be a good leader. suga laughs, “daichi taught him a lot. he was like ennoshita’s annoying brother more than anything. every day, he’d tell him a new captaining tip.”

kageyama huffs in a laugh.

“what about hinata?” suga smiles fondly at memories of the energetic first year whose untapped potential shined like the sun. once hinata wrangled that sun, could hold it in his palms without burning himself, he was going to be a force to be reckoned with. he really played with some incredible people.

“he’s getting better at his receives,” he says. suga can’t tell if he was joking until suga laughs, to which kageyama cracks a smile. “we’re getting better,” he grows more serious. “we’ll win.”

“nationals?” suga asks.

“all of it.” kageyama answers, ever the determined runner.

“do you know how to cook?” suga changes the subject. kageyama shrugs, prompting suga to speak again, “that’s okay. i just thought you needed a friend.” kageyama blinks at him but doesn’t speak, so suga continues, “it’s daichi’s birthday tomorrow. i’m making ramen for him cause he’s coming over tonight. i’ll make you a bowl for the ride home.”

“thank you, suga-san,” he finally says.

suga waves it off, “i’m kicking you out so i can spend time with my boyfriend. it’s rather unkind of me, actually.”

“boyfriend?” he questions, throwing out his empty carton in a nearby trash can.

suga nods, “since september.” he turns right at an intersection.

“about- “ kageyama cuts himself off, eyes going wide and face red.

this takes suga by surprise and sends him into a heap of laughter, “about time? is that what you were going to say?” he says in between breaths.

“it’s tsukishima’s fault- he’s been- i’m so sorry, suga-san. i’ll end tsukishima for this,” kageyama looks torn between embarrassed and angry, clenching and unclenching his fists. suga has to lean against a wall to keep himself standing.

“it’s okay, kageyama,” suga waves off, before wiping tears off his face.

they get to suga’s building quickly after, he points out his study spots and the fountain, slightly selling his university to kageyama as if suga doesn’t know that the only option for post-high school kageyama is the court. 

suga gets to work immediately once they settle into the dorm, his roommate being out for the day. he has a recipe pulled out on his phone to instruct him. suga gets a pot of water on the stove to boil while kageyama hovers over him. suga mixes the marinade for the eggs, using shoyu, mirin, and water in quantities the recipe laid out for him. kageyama follows him like a shadow, taking a step with him when suga has to reach for the cutting board. “you wanna help?” suga asks, throwing him a bone. he can be a snarky little shit with friends his age, but kageyama’s short two year difference still has suga leaning into the teacher side of him, the one that speaks gently and crouches to the height of daichi’s siblings. kageyama nods obediently, looking relieved to have something to do with his hands. suga hands him garlic and a knife, “mince this,” he says as he goes to peel ginger. hell if he knows what mince means, he was just reading the recipe. kageyama’s a smart kid (where grades aren’t concerned), he’ll figure it out.

he starts cutting the cloves. he’s definitely no daichi, suga compares after months of watching daichi doing what he loves, but the way he holds the knife and curls his hand into a claw when he holds the garlic to prevent injury makes suga think this isn’t kageyama’s first rodeo.

he himself isn’t any better, losing grip of the knife multiple times with the ginger’s irregular shape. he’s not incompetent, but he’s never made food for anyone that matters, so he’s determined to get this right. he passes over the now peeled ginger to kageyama, “this, too,” he requests. suga puts five eggs into the boiling water. he heats up a large pot, pouring a small amount of sesame oil into it. “i thought you didn’t cook.”

kageyama uses his knife to scrape the garlic into one corner to make room for the ginger, which he starts cutting, “i don’t,” after a pause he speaks, “i used to help my grandfather when we were younger.”

this confession makes suga’s teacher mode heighten. grandfather? _we?_ suga isn’t super aware of kageyama’s family, so he treads lightly and softens his voice more, “i didn’t know you had a sibling.”

“i have an older sister,” kageyama says. suga lets the conversation drop, rotating the eggs in the water. he instructs kageyama to put the ginger and garlic into the pot with oil, following it with spicy bean paste that he stole from daichi and iwaizumi. the broth comes together fairly quickly with suga pouring in dashi, chicken stock, sake, shoyu, salt, and sugar into the pot. he takes the eggs out of the boiling water and puts them into an ice bath, moving swiftly to put a portion of ramen noodles in the pot with boiling water. “can i do anything else?” kageyama offers.

suga pauses to think, before handing him a fishcake log, “you can cut this.” he drains the eggs from their water bath, peeling them before putting them in the marinade. suga frowns. an hour isn’t enough time at all for the eggs to steep. something to think about for next time, he guesses.

kageyama starts cutting quickly, aligning the knife perfectly straight in contrast to daichi’s preference for diagonals. cooking with kageyama is quiet but comfortable. there’s a sense of fragility to it as well, so suga sticks to safe conversation about sports and nostalgia. he strains the broth with cheesecloth, that he didn’t even know he had, and pours it back into the pot, letting it keep warm on low heat. suga then drains the ramen noodles and drops them in a quart sized tupperware container that he received from his local chinese takeout place when dinner for that night was egg drop soup. he ladles broth into the container and lets kageyama place a few pieces of fishcake on top. “these eggs haven’t been in here long enough,” suga says apologetically, retrieving one from the bag and slicing it in half. the yolk is cooked around the edges, being boiled for a second too long, but the middle is still runny enough for suga to be satisfied. he gently sets it on top of the ramen. he sprinkles a few nori strips on top and reaches for the- 

suga sighs loudly, causing kageyama to look at him questioningly. “i forgot the scallions,” he said. he had gotten distracted with seeing kageyama and his stupid watermelon, which he didn’t even end up buying. 

“oh,” kageyama says, “sorry,” he tacks on.

“it’s okay,” suga reassures, “it’s not like i forgot the noodles.” they both huff out a laugh. suga takes out a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks, also from the chinese takeout, and hands them to kageyama, “for you,” he taps the container of ramen. he looks surprised, as if suga didn’t already tell him he was going to send kageyama home with food. he bites back a laugh, “how are you getting home? train?” 

“bus,” kageyama answers, bowing in thanks. 

“holy shit,” suga says. he’s going to go all the way back home on the bus? “how did you get here, kageyama?”

he mirrors what he told suga earlier, shrugging and saying, “groceries.” suga doesn’t say anything, he stares and waits for him to break. “i’m visiting miwa,” he mumbles in defeat.

“is that your sister?” suga prods. kageyama nods. “you didn’t have to be so embarrassed,” suga smacks at his shoulder, “you made me think you fell asleep on the bus, ended up here, and was too prideful to ask for help on how to go home.” kageyama smiles, a small little curve, but suga feels proud nonetheless. this working with kids thing is definitely for him. suga hands him the lid to the container, “go catch your bus then. text me when you’re at her place,” he says in a firm voice.

kageyama nods obediently again and places his hands around the container, “thank you, suga-san,” he repeats.

suga hands him his grocery bags and pats his back, basically pushing him out of the room, “don’t be a stranger, okay?” 

“okay. bye,” kageyama gives a little wave and just as mysteriously as he appeared, he disappears. suga closes the door, pressing his forehead to it and sighing. he’s going to have one hell of a dinner story. he looks at the time, 3:46pm, about an hour before daichi arrives. he spends the hour by taking a shower and picking an outfit, a tan shirt with illustrations french tucked into blue straight cropped trousers, he puts on a few bracelets and a necklace to accessorize. 40 minutes into getting ready, kageyama texts him, _at miwa’s_ , to which suga responds with, _tell her i say hi!_ kageyama responds with a simple, _ok._

at 4:45pm, a knock on his door rings throughout the dorm, suga answers it quickly and throws the door open to find daichi, dressed in jeans and a blue crewneck. his hair is messy and face crumpled like he hasn’t slept in days. suga’s heart beats a little quicker, cause here is karasuno’s former captain, exhausted and vulnerable. oh, how suga loves him. “hi,” he greets.

“hey, suga,” daichi looks up at him and suddenly snaps up like suga threw a mean right hook at him, “i am so underdressed,” he announces.

“you’re perfect,” suga admits, because he is. he sees daichi in the early mornings when, by some miracle, suga wakes up before him and hears his ugly snoring. his shirt would have ridden up throughout the night and his hair would be sticking up in different places. and suga would think that this is where they belong.

“ _you’re_ perfect,” daichi returns. he steps into the dorm, “i’m pretty sure i tanked my calc test even though i spent like, a week studying. that’s why i feel like shit,” he explains, throwing himself on suga’s couch and flinging an arm over his eyes.

“you look the part too,” suga teases, closing the door behind him.

daichi lifts his arm and head for a second to glare at suga, “didn’t you just say i was perfect?”

“the world is full of complexities, daichi,” he moves to rest his arms on the back of the couch, peering down at him. daichi’s arm moves to cup the back of suga’s neck and he purses his lips for a kiss. “needy,” suga comments, before leaning down to kiss him. daichi is always so warm, the hand on his neck gentle as ever. he smiles against daichi’s mouth before kissing him again.

when they part, daichi whispers, “i’m hungry.” his hand moves to suga’s chest, where he pushes him away. “i’ll go make something,” he swings his legs off the couch to get up.

“actually,” suga starts, suddenly shy, “i made something, already.”

daichi’s eyes widen, turning to look at suga, “you cooked?” suga nods. “is it edible?” he’s spent too much time with suga, not that either of them are complaining. 

“shut up!” suga smacks him, “it’s good. kageyama liked it,” he didn’t even see him try it, but suga assumes he liked it.

“kageyama?” he questions.

“yes!” suga lights up at the prospect of telling daichi, “i found him at the store! so i brought him back here and made him help me cook.”

“what was he doing here? this town is like-”

“-two hours away from karasuno!” suga finishes, “that’s exactly what i thought! he was just visiting his sister and was being weird about it.”

“he has a sister?” 

“exactly what i thought,” suga repeats, “kid’s full of secrets, huh?” 

“maybe,” daichi shrugs, “or he just doesn’t want to tell his most annoying senpai anything.”

“you’re mistaking me for tanaka,” suga fires back, “or asahi.”

“i’m still hungry,” daichi laughs, choosing not to respond to suga’s remark, “what did you make?”

suga becomes shy at talking about what he made again, “shoyu ramen.”

“that’s my- “

“favorite, yes, i know,” suga covers his face with a hand.

daichi comes closer, one arm around suga’s waist and the other tugging at suga’s wrist to see his face, “you are so cute,” he places suga’s hand on daichi’s face, “thank you,” he gives him an appreciative kiss on the cheek.

“you haven’t even tried it yet,” suga says, bringing up his free hand to hold the other side of daichi’s face. so this is what it’s like to hold the whole world in his palms. warmth radiates from his face, seeping into his hands like magma flowing from the core of earth, making its way to the surface.

“so let’s try it,” daichi says, moving to the kitchen.

“i have to make the noodles,” suga says, following him, “i didn’t want them to get all gross.”

“good call,” daichi hums, “that’s what i would have done.” the praise rings deep in suga’s chest. he gets a pot of water on the heat. they talk quietly as they wait for the water to boil. once it does, suga drops the noodles into the pot. he drains them after a few minutes and divides them among two bowls. he scoops still-hot broth into the bowls, finishing with the fishcake kageyama cut and the same nori strips as before. he takes three eggs out of the marinade and slices all of them in half, grinning at the yolks’ consistency before turning to look at daichi.

daichi is already looking at him. “good work,” he says warmly. simple but effective, judging by the pride swelling in suga’s chest. “but there are four eggs?” he asks.

“two for you,” suga says, recalling how daichi likes his ramen, “one for me, one more for you to bring to iwaizumi.”

“and oikawa?” daichi quirks an eyebrow, knowing suga’s response.

“he can choke, for all i care,” he says with no bite. “he likes extra scallions instead,” suga adds after a pause. his voice is quiet with a little shame that he _cares_ about oikawa. suga puts the eggs into their bowls, sliding one over to daichi along with a pair of chopsticks.

the parallels do not go unnoticed by suga, he imagines the overjoyed look on daichi’s face is eerily similar to the one suga gets when daichi cooks for him, daichi’s excited “itadakimasu!” sounds a lot like suga’s. they have been so intertwined that it’s hard to picture them as separate entities, it feels wrong to do so. the anticipation he has at daichi’s impending commentary must be how he feels every time he puts a plate in front of suga.

“so?” suga prompts, too nervous to start eating.

daichi nods excitedly, “fantastic. could be a little sweeter, but it’s so good. considering that _you_ made it.” he grins bright and suga put that smile on his face, the victory that surges through him makes him want to jump into clouds.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” suga challenges.

“you don’t cook often, but here you are, making food for me. it’s everything i’ve ever wanted,” daichi says, grin turning dopey, “cause you’re all i’ve ever wanted.” suga’s heart explodes. before he can say anything, daichi asks him a familiar question, “what’s it mean?”

suga’s smile is bright and soft, like a firefly’s glow. “happy early birthday,” he says first, “i’m in love with you.” 

they’ve said i love you since they first got together, but it never gets old, in the way that the sun does not dim just because it rises every day. 

“i love you,” daichi smiles at him, “thank you.”

suga understands, now. the appeal of cooking is this- the warm look on your lover’s face when you make something with your own two hands for them, love consuming every millimeter of your body, so strong that it seeps out from your hands into the dish. it’s wordlessly saying, i will satisfy your hunger. for nutrition. for companionship.

i will satisfy your hunger.

**Author's Note:**

> the way i only know how to write 5+1 fics :/ anyway i hope you enjoyed! pls talk to me ab haikyuu on twt [@daichibao](https://twitter.com/daichibao) my brainrottage does not stop. daisuga,,, daichi,, tobiosuga bffs... daizumi bffs.. y'all know how it is. ALSO if you were interested in ANY recipe from this fic check out this page in my [carrd!!](http://shoyuramen.carrd.co/#lfb) pls consider leaving a kudos and/or feedback, thank u sm have a great day <3


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